The Luxury of Regret
by Ladywilde
Summary: New and Final Chpt! Mylar pairing  non graphic Set months after season 1 finale, Sylar comes out of hiding to visit Mohinder and confess one or two truths ...angsty.
1. Chapter 1

The Luxury of Regret

_I wrote this one because quite frankly it wouldn't leave me alone until I did. Thanks to Angelic Poison, the authoress of the very fantastic, 'Beautiful Demon,' for turning me on to this pairing._

_Warnings: Mylar slash (non graphic) - mild language, dark themes, and a lot of angst. _

"_You're a murderer. You don't get the luxury of regret."_

_- From Episode 21, "The Hard Part."_

He promised himself that this would be the last time that he would allow himself the luxury of hearing his voice and it would have been if it had not had the same old affect it always had. The one of creeping into, crawling deep within the broken, remaining shards of his heart and festering there, sly and impatient.

Yes, that hollow, black thing inside of him - somehow came alive again, beating, _aching_ at the sound of the soft accented voice on the other end of the line.

There was always a part of him that wanted to reach across the wire that separated them, this unwanted distance and somehow find the ability to erase everything he ever was, to kill this black thing he had become against his own will.

Yet, he could do nothing to erase it nor will it away from him self and everywhere he looked now he was faced with his regret, with bitterness and most of all a longing that he could barely contain.

It was a red hot, desperate angry _thing _that begged for release; to be fulfilled at all cost.

He could close his eyes now and see him before him so clearly; it was as if he had drawn him into memory and imprinted him there forever. He could see his smooth dark skin and those probing eyes - searching his own, the small half smile that would curl against his lips when amused.

It had been two months since he had been forced to flee, weakened and near death.

He almost wish he had died…He wished now as he had often that he had the strength to do it himself.

_I am evil_, he thought, _I ache to kill again. I want too - I can't stop it. I never could. _

He had called him twice before and had listened to his breathing, his questions, "Who is this?" "Why are you calling?"

He wanted to speak, to say something but there was nothing to say.

What would one say to the person they loved, the person who despised me?

The man on the other end hated him and rightfully so. All that voice did now was serve as a reminder of how desperately he wished to go back and change his fate.

To have those eyes look at him once again with affection, kindness and not such open and undisguised disgust and loathing.

How many times back, in the brief time they shared, had he wanted to reach across the room and draw him into his arms with the power of his mind. To use his power to crush his body against his own, hard enough to bruise and kiss those lips of his until they both were sated and full.

Desire spent and then renewed again and again; he knew once he had him, he would never get his fill.

He could murder but he could not tell the man on the other end of the phone that he loved him. He could not have then either - perhaps he never would. The realization of this made two lone tears escape from the corners of impossibly dark eyes and spill down the sides of his face, drip down now over the knuckle of the hand that stood, clutching the phone now. He opened his eyes and spoke before he could rethink it.

"Please don't hang up on me," he said, not recognizing the thin, sad plea that was his voice.

There was a hard pause and a shock of breath drawn from the other man, a half a country away from him.

"Sylar?"

He sounded frightened and completely unnerved at the realization of who it was on the end of the line.

The futility of it all made Sylar lower his eyes with shame for it, the fear he had placed in the other man's heart.

"Yeah, it's me," he answered.

"You're suppose to be dead…"

"Yes, I am - but as you can see I'm not."  
"Why are you calling me?"

It was Sylar's turn to pause; to draw out a strangled breath, heavy with emotion.

"I don't know."  
It was as honest of an answer as he could give and he knew that he was a fool for having called, for letting Mohinder know that he was alive and out there somewhere in the world.

What was the matter with him.

"I need to see you," he said quickly, surprising the both of them.

"Don't call me again," Mohinder said and there was that fear again. Sylar could practically hear him looking over his shoulder for him as if like a monster from a horror movie, he would spring out of the shadows to claim his victim.

He had hung up on him, the dial tone rang loudly and obnoxiously in his ear as he realized that he did not want to talk to him and rightfully so. What could one do to apologize for murdering someone's father - for murdering countless others?

_I don't want to be this man anymore - I want to be normal, I don't want to be special. I just want to be with you._

Mohinder had stepped away from the phone has if it had suddenly come alive in his hands. His eyes wide with shock and cold fear, Sylar was suppose to be dead so why was he calling him now?

What in the world was he planning?

He sank down in the chair behind him, his legs weakened and he had to sit or fall.

He stared down at his hands and saw them trembling, the rest of his body quaking with fear, hard enough to shake the chair in which he sat in.

Yet, there was something else laced there amidst the fear and the panic, it was the single image of a man.

Not Sylar but of Zane, a man with a shy smile and large dark eyes who had made Mohinder believe that maybe, just maybe there was no need to be alone any longer.

_All lies, all of it - he lied from the moment you laid eyes on him…_

There was no Zane. There was only Sylar - vicious, brutal, pure evil - a violent killer and a madman.

Yes, a madman that had just called him now in a voice that sounded as if it were tinged, edged with remorse and sorrow.

Regret.

Want.

Pain.

Sylar paced the floor of his small closet size apartment, feeling the sadness within him start to build towards anger. A barely contained rage simmering and bubbling to the surface.

His hands clenched in fiery fists, his breath shallow and ragged as he tried to calm himself and yet it was impossible.

The darkness that was within him was rushing up upon him, making him into the dark thing he hated himself for.

That dial tone repeated itself in his ear, its finality and what it symbolized.

_He doesn't want to hear a goddamn thing you have say…_

He raised his right hand to open up the cabinets of his small kitchen and send the dishes and glasses in there into a whirlwind - they slammed into shattered, broken pieces into the walls.

He turned his left hand and levitated his one chair and flung that to against the farthest wall, till it was pile of broken wood - nothing left of it but some splinters and fabric.

The pain was not eased by this display, this surge of anger that raced through his entire being.

He sank down to his knees - panting, tears rolling down his face one by one. His whole body shaking with the need of him, the desire more painful then anything physical he had ever known, not even that blade that was plunged into his body and then brutally ripped out of him - even then he had survived and now, now he felt as if he would die from the knowledge of it all. That he was truly evil, that he was unworthy of his love…would always be.

He didn't care anymore. He wanted to see him again even if it meant seeing first hand only disgust and hatred in those beautiful eyes of his, to see upon his face - the mark and the stain of everything wrong, of the evilness he had unwillingly become.

_Can you save me, can you tell me it'll be okay….can you?_

_Who do I tell? Do I run…where would I go, back to India? _

Mohinder had sat up the entire night, rooted to his spot in his chair, a coil spring of tightly wound nerves.

What would he do now.

He stared at phone waiting for it to ring.

It never did.

He walked now in a daze of clouded insecurity and quite frankly fear.

He did not trust his feet, feet that would not listen as everything that was left in him that bore any semblance to the real and the sensible, all but begged him to reconsider.

Begged of him to turn around and leave before it was too late.

Yet, those feet would not heed him and so he continued walking.

He paused outside the apartment building and then pushed against the rusted security door, edged it open with his boot, stepped inside.

He climbed the steps slowly towards the second floor, the building bearing a faint, musky scent of dust and mold. Still, the smell bore the familiar and he took an appreciative sniff as he walked down the hall and to the door that would take him to the one person he needed, the one person who could possibly have it within him to save him now from himself.

He knocked and then ducked away from the peep hole, pressing his back against the wall and listening with acute hearing, the foot steps of someone walking hesitantly towards the door, of which was accompanied by the sound of a heartbeat pounding in panic and of a man's breathing shallow and heavy.

There was no answer, no move to open the door.

Sylar took a deep breath and pressing his head against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, spoke now to the man standing behind the door.

"We both know I can take this door down Mohinder, so why don't you save us both the trouble and just open it."

At the sound of his voice, the pulse quickened.

There was a click as the door was unlocked and Mohinder opened it, looking nearly angelic yet terrified in dark pressed slacks and a white button down shirt.

His hair slicked back as if from a recent shower and his eyes so dark, so full of uncertainty and fear.

They sized the other up, each not speaking. It was Sylar who broke the spell.

He pushed past Mohinder and stepped into the apartment, turned and closed the door behind them both as he did so.

"I honestly thought you would have run the second you heard from me."

" Well, I figured if you wanted me dead you wouldn't have called first."

Sylar met his eyes, allowed the faint trace of a smile.

"You're right," he said.

"Then why are you here?"  
Sylar shrugged and moved about the room, ran a hand over the piles of papers and books on Mohinder's desk and looked up and met the other man incredulous eyes.

"You making progress?"

"If you've come for the list, it isn't here."  
He turned and looked back over his shoulder at the other man, eyeing him now with distrust, he looked ready to run but there was nowhere to go.

He couldn't outrun him even if he tried.

"I didn't come for the list, I came to see you…"

There was a pause.

"Why, what could you possibly have to say to me after what you've done?"

Mohinder's words a sharp heated stab of revulsion and hatred.

It tore at Sylar, he looked away.

"You have every right to hate me."

"Of course I do, you son of a bitch, you killed my father!"

"I've killed a lot of people."

"I have nothing to say to you," Mohinder hissed, "You should have died and rightfully so - you don't deserve to live."  
Sylar lowered his head briefly and then looked up, moved towards Mohinder who instinctively backed up and away from him.

"I know that too, Mohinder - please I just…"

"Just what!" Mohinder nearly screamed at him and before he knew it he was backed into a wall with nowhere to go and Sylar was before him, arms outstretched, palms pressed against the wall, blocking Mohinders escape.

His dark eyes searching the terrified eyes of the man before him and Mohinder saw the guilt swimming in those eyes of his, his unshed tears.

"I just needed to see you once more."

Sylar's voice was a hot whisper one tinged with desire and frustration as he leaned closer and nuzzled the other man's neck with his lips, lightly, breathing in his scent, feeling comforted by it.

Mohinder turned his head away, and closed his eyes.

"Get away from me!"

"Tell me it was real Mohinder, tell me you never thought…"

Mohinder suddenly gave a strangled cry and shoved Sylar off him, faced him with ragged breath and eyes burning with intensity and anger.

"Get out!"  
Sylar met his eyes, saw - the proof of what he wanted and needed and desired above all things in his short and unhappy life.

He stepped closer defying Mohinder's wishes and taking his terrified face in his hands, ; he kissed him, hard.

Mohinder went rigid in his arms and without wanting to, felt his body begin to respond as Sylar kissed and bit and nipped at his lips, prodding their iron resistance with his tongue. Sylar frustrated by Mohinder's lack of response pushed them both up and against the wall hard enough to hurt the weaker man pinned beneath him.

"Don't you dare deny me," Sylar whispered, "I need you, I want you…I _fucking_ love you."

Those words were enough to bring Mohinder back to his senses, he pulled away from the other man, and ripped himself up and out of his arms.

"What would someone like you know about love?" he spat out venomously.

"Tell me you never cared, I want to hear you say it!"

Mohinder looked up at him, his lips curved into a tragic smile.

"I never cared for you - not this _thing _you are now but yes, once when I thought…I thought you were someone else…"

Sylar shut his eyes, opened them.

"I am that man, somewhere inside me - I can _feel_ it, I need your help, please."  
Sylar went towards him and tried once more to get the other man in his arms, the ache of it all and his desperation to possess the one thing he desired above all else.

He wanted to feel loved, just once - too feel human again and as he stood looking into the deep, unfathomable eyes of his would be redemption; he thought for the tiniest moment that maybe, just maybe he could have that - a chance.

"You disgust me!"

Mohinder's seething hostility cut to the core and Sylar nodded, slowly.

He stopped in his tracks and backed up, nodded.

"I never meant to hurt you…"

"Just go…"  
They held eyes for another moment longer and Sylar could fee the anger rising in him again, terrifying him with the thought that he might lash out and hurt the man before him.

He had to leave and he had to do it now.

He turned and went to the door, turned back, caught Mohinder eye once more and held it.

"You don't believe me but I do - love you and I am sorry, I want you to know that…"  
Mohinder looked away as Sylar took his exit, closing the door behind him.

_Depending on the response, there will definitely be another chapter up…so let me know what you think? Thanks for reading…_


	2. Chapter 2

The Luxury of Regret

Authors Note: Okay this was a bitch to write Hopefully, I didn't disappoint you with this.

BTW, all flashbacks will be marked by italics. Thanks for reading.

_"There is no refuge from memory and remorse in this world. The spirits of our foolish deeds haunt us, with or without repentance." – Gilbert Parker_

Chapter 2

(2 years later)

Mohinder gets up carefully, pulling himself out from under the out stretched arm holding him securely in place. He smiles to himself as he places the arm back down on the bed and sits up. He reaches for his boxers and slides them on as he hears the man beside him, stir in his sleep, and then roll over towards him, grumbling softly as he does so.

"Please tell me it's not morning yet."

Mohinder chuckles a little and leans down and kisses the back of his neck, rubs his shoulders a little.

"Afraid so," he says as his lover, of over a year, Jason looks up from the pillow he had buried his face in and offers him a lazy, half smile. His eyes glazed with sleep.

"You have to go already?"

"Yes," Mohinder says, regretfully.

"That's too bad, you sure I can't interest you in something more appealing then genetic research?"

"Tempting but no," Mohinder says and kisses him before getting up.

Jason watches as Mohinder goes into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. He lies back against the pillows and looks up at the cracked ceiling of Mohinder's apartment.

He hears the shower turn on and thinks back to how far he has come…

_-------_

Mohinder hears the bathroom door squeak open and he turns around long enough to see Jason slip into the hot spray with him.

"I told you, I have to go…"

Mohinder starts to protest but stops as he feels Jason's strong, assertive hands on his him, his lips nuzzled into the back of his neck.

"You have time," Jason replies, his voice husky with passion.

Mohinder tilts his head back into the spray and allows a single moan of anticipation to escape his lips.

He knows Jason is right; there is always time for this.

------

"_Have you ever been in love before?" _

_Jason had watched as Mohinder got up and went into the bathroom. He hears the lock turn and then the sound of the faucet being turned on._

_Underneath it is the sound of Mohinder crying softly._

_He knocked. _

"_Please talk to me, are you okay?" _

_Mohinder unlocks the door and his eyes were red, his hands held up to his face, wiping at his tears. _

_He apologizes for his behavior._

_Jason is instantly concerned, he tries to take Mohinder into his arms and offers him a small smile. "_

"_I didn't mean to upset you…"_

"_Of course not," Mohinder answers. He moves away from him and out of his arms._

_His back is to Jason now as he moves to the window and parts the curtain , looks out into the city, as if searching for something- someone. _

"_What was he like?" Jason asks carefully and Mohinder takes his time in answering, when he does his voice is hoarse. _

"_He was a lot like you," he says, "only not as good."_

---------

Mohinder saunters through the double glass doors of a downtown high rise, he nods to the guard on duty. Mohinder has made a decision, one which he knows he should have made years ago. He takes a deep breath and pushes the up button for the elevator, when it opens, he steps in and pushes the button for the 32nd floor.

This is the new Primatech.

It is run now by him and Noah Bennett and funded by the Petrelli's. Their goal now is to find others and help educate them on their abilities. Mohinder feels he has at last made some strides in his father's work. He is proud of what they have started to build and accomplish as an organization.

So it is with a heavy heart now that he must unburden himself and tell them the truth of what he knows.

Mohinder heads up the research department while Noah handles recruitment along with Matt Parkman, who is now the adoptive father of the little girl who is running up to Mohinder and throwing herself into his arms.

"Hi," she says with a bright smile and he holds her and kisses the top of her head.

"Hello, Molly dear," he says, "Why aren't you having your lessons?"

"I wanted to see you first," she says with a grin as Matt walks up them and hands Mohinder a steaming cup of coffee.

"Morning," he says and Mohinder nods and thanks him for the coffee.

"I need to speak with you," Mohinder says and he turns and looks to Molly and then back to Matt, "in private," he adds.

Matt nods and turns to his daughter, "You better head off," he tells her, "Miss Vance, doesn't like when you keep her waiting."

"Okay," she says with a bright smile as she skips away, "Bye," she calls.

The wave to her as she disappears down the hall.

"You're thinking about Sylar, why is that?" Matt asks, reading his mind.

"Because…"

Mohinder says quickly but the rest of the sentence gets caught in his throat and he has to look away.

"He's dead," Matt says raising a suspicious brow and Mohinder takes him by the arm and steers him away towards an empty conference room.

"No, he isn't" Mohinder says, catching the other man's eye, "I lied."

------------

Mohinder had to leave the room after telling both Noah and Matt that he had known all this time that Sylar was alive but had not told anyone.

He had tried to find the words to explain himself. Yet there weren't any. Noah looked angry but he didn't say anything – he only merely looked away as Mohinder stood up and excused himself from the room.

-----------

_They had met in a coffee shop._

_Mohinder sitting with a mug of hot, steaming chai and a pile of papers and notes sprawled on the table and neighboring chairs._

_He had looked up and saw a tall, good looking guy with baggy khakis and a small half smile on is face. _

_Mohinder caught his eye, smiled back slightly and then went on with his work. _

"_Are you a teacher?" _

_Mohinder had looked up and saw that the man who had been watching him had made his way over to him, sipping from a large beverage of some sort, something decidedly sweet from the smell that wafted over to Mohinder._

"_Yes, actually…" Mohinder had answered and he noticed that the young man's eyes were dark, very dark – eyes that reminded him of someone else, another time ago. _

_There was a slight awkward pause as they each eyed the other and then the man had lifted his drink up as if saluting him and smiled, revealing dimples that Mohinder already considered adorable._

"_I see you're busy so I'll leave you alone." _

_Mohinder nods as the young man turns and he thinks a moment, just one before he calls out to him. _

"_I'm Mohinder," he says and holds up a hand which the man reaches for and shakes, all while keeping those dark eyes trained on his, "Jason," he replies._

-------

The door closes behind him and Mohinder has managed to make it to the men's room before he is sick. He does not have live any longer with the lie and for that he feels relieved, grateful. Beside's in the two years since, Sylar has not harmed anyone as far as the company can tell. It is almost as if has vanished into thin air. He leans his head down to the cool porcelain of the sink and rests his hot, flushed face to it.

The door to the bathroom opens and Mohinder turns to see Matt enter, wordlessly he reaches for a paper towel and hands it to Mohinder who takes it, thanking him.

"I am sorry that I lied to you all."

Matt looks away and Mohinder can see that he is uncomfortable with their conversation maybe a little frightened.

"Don't be," he says and Mohinder can feel the air in the room start to change, a stifling cloistered feeling as if all the oxygen has been sucked from the room.

"We've known Sylar was alive for sometime," Matt says softly, still avoiding eye contact. This news makes Mohinder feel sick all over again, he grimaces.

"Why haven't you apprehended him, taken him in?"

"We will, but for the time being we thought it was better if we allowed him to continue….."

The conversation trails away as Matt once again shifts uncomfortably and looks away and Mohinder takes a step towards him.

"To what?"

Matt manages to drag his eyes to Mohinder's own and the look on Matt's face, stops Mohinder from speaking, it is as if he knows what he will say, already his knees begin to give way from him and he has to grip the sink to keep himself upright.

"Jason is Sylar," Matt finally answers and with those words, the panic takes over, he lets go of his grip on the sink and slowly slides down the wall and to the floor.

-----------

Mohinder pushes the door to their apartment open and steps in, his greeted by the smell of dinner wafting in from the small kitchen. Mohinder pauses at the door, sighs and lowers his coat off his shoulders, tosses both it and his briefcase into the corner of the room. "How was your day?" Jason asks, coming into the room, while wiping his hands off on a dishrag.

Mohinder stands completely still as he feels Jason lean over and plant a small kiss on his lips, he wonders if he is strong enough to continue this charade. He feels the tears come and prick his eyes, he looks away and sniffs.

"It was fine," he replies.

"It doesn't sound fine," Jason says, the ever concerned boyfriend and the sick feeling knots its way deeper into Mohinder's gut as he lifts his eyes up to Jason's.

How could he have been so blind, he wonders now. Those are Sylar's eyes – they always have been… dark, impenetrable, mysteriously beautiful eyes.

He looks away again, unable to bare the thought – the images that are coming so hard and so fast at him. Images of them in bed, making love - of holding one another as they drift off to sleep, of him telling this man he loves him. He feels the repulsion start creeping across his skin.

This man is his lover – he loves him but he is also a brutal killer… a fraud.

"It is," Mohinder says carefully as Jason turns to go back into the kitchen, he is saying something about dinner but Mohinder can not register it. He hears only a faint buzzing in his ears as his heart beats wildly against his rib cage.

Jason turns back and gives him a small smile, an uneasy one.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," he managed to reply as Jason nods and starts back to the kitchen.

Mohinder takes a deep breath and reaches into the back of his pants and pulls the gun from it.

His hand is shaking but he manages to lift it and point it at the retreating man's back.

"Sylar," he says and fires, just as Jason turns around at the sound of the name and lifts a hand into the air, stopping the bullet in mid air.

The air is pregnant with tension as Jason lifts his eyes to both Mohinder and the smoking gun in his hand.

The bullet drops, harmless to the floor.

There is such a look of stricken sadness on Jason's handsome face as he morphs into Sylar standing there with the same sad look, his expression one such intense pain, that for the briefest of second Mohinder almost regrets his decision.

They don't speak just stare at one another. Mohinder realizes he is shaking all over and he wills himself to breath.

"How long have you known?" Sylar finally asks him and his voice is barely that of a whisper.

Mohinder feels as if he is going to either faint or throw up, the room begins to spin crazily around him as he struggles to get control of himself.

He knows now, had known but still seeing with his own eyes is too much for him. He lowers the gun to his side and swallows hard, tasting a lump of bitterness that refuses to budge.

"You bastard…"

It is the only words, he is able to form on his dry lips. He struggles to form a single coherent thought but he can find none now as he stares into the eyes of ultimate betrayal.

"Mohinder," Sylar says and his voice is tinged with so much tenderness and concern that it angers Mohinder.

_How dare he? How dare he do this to me?_

"I want to explain," Sylar says, carefully and takes a step forward, his hand outstretched.

Mohinder lifts the gun again, his hand still shaking and Sylar stops mid stride, expecting Mohinder to try and shoot at him again. But, Mohinder surprises them both by lifting the gun to his own temple, finger nestled securely against the trigger.

"No…"

Sylar shouts and with his mind, reaches across the room and tosses the gun out of his lover's hand. Mohinder gives a start as he feels it ripped from him. Now the will has gone out of him and he sinks now down to his knees trembling. Sylar having just watched as the man he loves nearly took his own life in front of him is lost for words.

He has no excuses.

He moves closer to the man on the floor, whose eyes are large with shock. Sylar sinks down next to him. He aches to take him in his arms and soothe him but he doesn't dare, knowing that Mohinder doesn't want him too.

The knowledge of which lowers his guard and he starts speaking and finds he can't stop himself, if only he could find the right words. If only he could make him understand.

"I am so sorry," he says and his voice is thick with emotion, " I know - what I have done isn't right, I know that but I loved you - I love you still… please if you ever…"

Mohinder turns on him and having regained his composure as best he can lunges to his feet.

"Don't you dare speak to me about love."

Sylar climbs to his feet.

"Mohinder…"

"Don't! not another word…just go, start running."

"I am not afraid of them," Sylar says but it's not an easy boast, in fact his voice barely gets beyond a whisper.

"It doesn't matter - they will be coming for you and they will find you."

Mohinder turns his back on him and when he opens his eyes, the room is empty - the door has been left open and Sylar is gone.

---------------

Sylar did run but they came for him anyway and a tranqulizer gun later, he is now in a cell much like the one he was in before - this one however is better built, in order to make sure he complies, they have kept him heavily drugged. The truth is that wouldn't matter for now that his secert has been revealed he has no reason to fight any longer.

He is weaken, depressed and he aches for Mohinder - he yearns to see his face - even if it is just to say goodbye to what could have been but wasn't.

---------------

He wakes up to the sound of a door opening and he rolls over on the cold tiles and sees someone step in, someone instantly recognizable as he gets to his feet to greet the man on the other side of the glass.

He starts to speak but stops as he notices the red in Mohinder's eyes, and the shaking of his hands as he steps closer to the glass and Sylar steps closer to him, studying his experession.

"It has been decided," Mohinder announces and his voice is a mere ghost of itself, a whisper.

Sylar understands and steps even closer.

"Are you going to do it?" He asks and he is quick to notice, Mohinder swallowing thickly as he nods.

"Don't you cry for me," he urges and Mohinder has to look away.

"It's better this way, Mohinder…I deserve it, I deserve it for everyone of them…your father, Eden…all of them but most of all I deserve it for what I did to you…"

Mohinder looks back at him and he steps closer to the glass and puts a hand up against it and Sylar nods, steps closer and places his hand over Mohinder's - all that separates them is a thick panel of glass, still Sylar welcomes the gesture. This small bit of tenderness he does not deserve.

Sylar tilts his forehead to the cool panes and Mohinder does the same and Sylar is suddenly filled with such need to feel the man before him, one last time, feel him beneath his finger tips, taste his moans on his lips. He aches to wake up just one more morning to find him beside him.

"You made me love you…"

Sylar looks up.

"And God, help me …"

Sylar nods, "It was real though, what we had..."

"It was only lies, Sylar…only lies."

Sylar risks meeting his eyes and seeing the tears in his, allows his own.

"You and I both know that isn't true," he says, "It was real," he mutters as if seeking to reassure himself, "it was real."

"And now its done," Mohinder says," the truth is I loved you, the first time I saw you…it was always you…even after I knew… who it is you were…I couldn't help myself, you wormed your way into my bloodstream and now this is the only way to get you out."

Mohinder steps back from the glass and he is moving towards the door.

"Goodbye," he says over his shoulder and Sylar starts to speak, a thousand thoughts spinning in a whirl around his head. So much needed to be said but can't and suddenly the lights go out and Mohinder is leaving. The room has been plunged into inky blackness and he feels it, fear - a quick stab of it and he sinks down to the floor as the room, his cell is suddenly filled with thick plumes of smoke, he coughs and breaths in the dangerous fumes, his lung feel as if they are on fire… he sputters, chokes - can feel the end rushing up upon him and he feels his body shutting down - he is dying.

"Mohinder…"

It is his last word, and then he starts to drift off.

It takes only three minutes for him to die.

_---------------_

"_Tell me you love me?"_

"_I love you Jason."_

_Sylar closes his eyes and draws him closer into his arms and clings to him, buries his face wet with his tears into the crux of Mohinder's shoulder and cries. Mohinder pulls back and looks at him, he seems concerned maybe even a little frightened._

"_Jason, are you alright?"_

_Sylar nods and leans forward and kisses Mohinder._

"_I'm just happy," he says. _

_And he is - more happy then he himself could have ever dreamed. He just prays Mohinder never knows and that he has the rest of his life to make everything up to him, to make him happy._


End file.
